The Severus Snape Advent Calendar, Take Three
by HappyAuriga
Summary: I think the title tells it all. It can be enjoyed seperately or you may want to read the first two.
1. 1

*1*

Severus Snape hurried down the dungeons, an inconspicious brown paper bag under his arm, towards his private chambers. He cursed under his breath when he turned the last corner and caught sight of his mentor and superior waiting in front of the portrait of Curt the Cauldron Carrier. It was too late to escape. Dumbledore had spotted him.

"Severus!" the old wizard cried merrily. "How are you, my boy?"

"Well, thank you, Albus," Snape hurried to whisper the password – lily of the valley – and practically drag the man into his living room. Having the old coot call him "my boy" in the dungeon area where all the Slytherins could hear him would not do much for Severus's reputation, neither with the children nor with the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore sat on Snape's best armchair, oblivious of the ruin of reputation he had nearly caused. "I came to discuss our next Hogsmeade weekend. We have to give the students an opportunity to do their Christmas shopping."

Snape snorted. Christmas shopping was not his cup of tea; Christmas shopping was for sentimental fools.

The headmaster seemed to read his mind – Snape checked his occlumency shields at once – because he smiled benignly. "Now, now, Severus, you are one to make faces when you are just returning from a shopping trip." He looked at the brown paper bag pointedly. "What did you buy?"

A less accomplished spy than Snape would have made a face, but the potions master did not move a single facial muscle. "Nothing."

"Certainly you are not carring an empty paper bag! Especially since it's a rather ugly paper bag, not at all fit to be a stylish accessory."

Snape gave up with a sigh. "I bought some muggle stationary."

"Muggle? Intriguing! What exactly?" Dumbledore asked excitedly.

"A paper advent calendar. Uhm, I somehow got used to opening a window every day and since there is no chance that Santa will give me a third one, I bought a muggle one. It won't be exactly the same, but better than nothing."

"A muggle advent calendar?" Dumbledore clapped his hands. "May I see it?"

The potions master opened his bag and brought out a piece of colourful paperboard. The gaudy picture of a winter landscape with deer under a Christmas tree caused Dumbledore to squeal with delight. "But Severus," said the old wizard when he had calmed down, "this is entirely flat! Where are the presents?"

"There are no presents," explained Snape. "Only pictures to discover when you open the windows." He shrugged. "Better than nothing."

Dumbledore grinned triumphantly. Before Snape could move to stop him, he had drawn his wand and cast a spell on the calendar.

"What have you done?" cried the potions master.

"Spiced things up a bit." Dumbledore rubbed his hands. "Open the first window!"

Feeling a bit anxious, Snape did as he was told. There was a picture of a gingerbread man in the window. The younger wizard looked at Dumbledore questioningly. The old man beamed when a soft tingle filled the room and a plate of gingerbread men appeared on the table between them.

"See?" the headmaster asked with an air of satisfaction. "It's harmless enough." That said he got up. "Enjoy your treat. We can talk about Hogsmeade later."

Severus Snape spent the next hour sipping tea, courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves, and nibbling gingerbread men. They were delicious. Snape wondered why he still had a feeling of doom in the pit of his stomach.


	2. 2

*2*

Snape slept in for an hour the next day. It was Wednesday, and that meant that his first period was free. Miraculously, Dumbledore had not appointed him any duties at the Great Hall at breakfast that year and the potions master was for once able to start a day luxuriously slow in the middle of the week.

After a lengthy shower with his favourite cherry shower gel, Snape ordered tea from the house elves and munched the last gingerbread man left while reading his copy of the Daily Prophet. They were still looking for Sirius Black. Snape smirked at the thought of his childhood enemy having to hide from the authorities. Only after breakfast did the potions master put on his teaching robes and get ready for the school day. Snape was halfway out of his quarters when he remembered it was December.

Humming a merry little melody, Snape stepped to his advent calendar and opened the second window. He stared at the picture of a snowflake expectantly. Nothing happened. Or at least nothing happened at once.

Ten seconds later, Snape heard the sound of the newspaper he had left on the coffee table rustling in a soft breeze. He shuddered as the temperature in his living room dropped dramatically within an instant. The wind rose and the breeze became a gale, and then the gale became a storm. Snow fell from the ceiling, first in thick white flakes and then Snape found himself in the middle of a blizzard.

The snow bit as it hit the wizard's skin. Snape tried to protect himself with his arms and by ducking away from the onslaught, but to not much avail.

Cursing Dumbledore first in English, then in Latin and finally in Ancient Greek the potions master wrapped his robes tighter around his frame. He dug his fingers into the backrest of an armchair to avoid being blown over and faught his way through the snowfall towards the best place he could think of at the moment.

Snape had to use all his strength to get closer to the fireplace in order to get a bit of warmth. He held his fingers to the flames, but the wind was getting stronger and colder by the minute. The fire flickered and nearly went out. Part of Snape feared he was going to freeze to death in the snow storm.

It stopped as suddenly as it had started. One second Snape was trying to shelter his face from the onslaught of the blizzard and the next he was sitting on the floor in front of his fireplace and watching the snow on the mantle melt. In fact, a foot high fleece was the only proof that what Snape thought had just happened had not been a phantasm.

Cursing – he had stopped when the wind had got too strong – Snape waved his wand, removing the snow from his furniture, carpets and books. He was going to kill Dumbledore if waterstains stayed behind on his leather couch. A good dozen of spells later, the potions master's quarters were back in a normal state. As far as Snape could tell, no permanent damage had been done if he did not count the uncomfortable feel of pins and needles on his facial skin.

His good mood gone, Snape stomped to the potions classroom to meet his first group of students of the day. At least they were Ravenclaws and not Gryffindors, which was a ray of hope as far as Snape was concerned. On the way through the dungeons Snape tried to think of an appropriate punishment for Albus Dumbledore for spoiling his simple joy of having an advent calendar.

The flash of genius struck when he watched the students file into the classroom. He knew how to get his revenge!

He was going to let Dumbledore open the next window.


	3. 3

*3*

It was not before tea time the next day that Severus Snape got an opportunity to carry out his plan of revenge, but he did not regret that. Revenge was a dish best served cold anyway.

He approached the headmaster in the staff room where his intended victim was having scones and tea with Minerva McGonagall. "I love December," Dumbledore was saying when Snape sat in the empty armchair beside his. "Everybody is in a good mood, and the kids barely cause problems because they don't want to spoil their chances with Santa."

"Indeed, Albus," the potions master seized the opportunity to turn the conversation to the necessary topic. "What I love most about December is the anticipation. People seem to be counting down the days to Christmas."

McGonagall took a sip of tea. "I fondly remember that advent calendar of yours, Severus. It was so kind of you to share it with all of us last year."

"Funny you mention it, Minerva." Snape smiled. His facial muscles protested at the unusual movement. "I have one this year, too, and I intend to let others join the fun again. In fact, I brought it for Albus to do the honours today." He reached inside his robes and produced the cardboard calendar.

"This looks entirely different than last year," McGonagall stated curiously. She moved a bit forward to see better.

"That's because it's a muggle calendar. Albus spiced it up a bit, that's why he gets to open a window before anybody else." He held out the calendar invitingly.

"That's so kind of you," cried the headmaster. "I was starting to envy you a bit. I even considered getting my own. Are you sure? May I?"

"Of course, Albus. I wouldn´t have gone to the trouble of carrying it all way up from the dungeons if I were not sure I wanted you to open it today." Snape smiled again. He definitely had to practice that. He could already feel a soreness build in his cheeks.

Dumbledore beamed at the potions master and opened the window. Snape closed his eyes and turned away a bit in case the window held any explosives.

It did not.

Snape opened his eyes when Dumbledore squealed with delight. Inside the window was a picture of a parcel wrapped in red paper and on the table, right beside the plate of scones rested now the very same package. All Snape could do was watch the old man open it and reveal a pair of thick bright blue socks.

Beside himself with joy, the white-bearded wizard slid out of his boots and put the socks on. He wriggled his toes and stretched luxuriously.

"That's a wonderful gift!" cried McGonagall. She waved her wand and transfigured the headmaster's boots into carpet slippers. "Albus, Severus said you spiced the calendar up. What did you do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, the thing Severus bought only had those pictures in it and I thought that was a step back after that calendar he got from Santa Claus last year, so I cast a spell which will trigger a little bit of magic every time a window is opened."

"Isn't that dangerous?" McGonagall asked doubtfully.

"Not at all!" the old wizard hurried to reassure her. "I kept it to low level spells."

"Hm, I was not aware that was possible." McGonagall sounded deep in thought.

"It's easy if you link the spell to a certain being. In our case here, the calendar won't do anything our Severus here was not able to do at the age of twelve."

Snape got up as if stung by a tarantula. "I have some essays to grade," he excused himself. He was close to panic. At the age of twelve, he had know the Unforgivables, had caused earthquakes and had started to work on spells like Sectumsempra. The fact that the advent calendar matched a twelve year old Severus Snape in magic was not very reassuring. But then the spells were triggered by the pictures in the calendar and how dangerous could that be?

The potions master did not sleep well that night.


	4. 4

*4*

Snape was woken after a too short night's rest the next morning, and to make matters worse, by a house elf. The small creature looked ready to pull out its toe nails for waking the wizard. It fidgeted nervously and hung its ears.

"Pinky is most sorry, Master Snape, Professor, Sir. But if Master Snape does not get up now, Master Snape will miss his first lesson!"

Snape dismissed the elf with a quick gesture of his hand before he jumped out of bed with some swear words. His alarm clock informed him that even if he rushed, he would probably be late. The potions master rushed into the shower and back out barely that the water had touched his skin. He spelled himself dry and dressed – he hated putting on his clothes with magic! – and grabbed a scone on his way to the door. His first lesson was with first year Slytherins and he was so going to start the lesson with a demonstration on how to brew proper coffee!

It was all Dumbledore's fault, of course. Snape had spent most of the night pondering the potential dangers of his advent calendar and whether he should open the windows himself or rather let others do it. When he walked by the obnoxious thing, he realised that he had to make a decision in order to function properly. If he let the issue unsolved, he was going to think about it all day and Merlin knew what could happen in a potions classroom when the teacher was not paying attention.

Snape stopped and turned back to the calendar. There was only one way to give him his peace of mind back and Snape was not one to hesitate once he knew what needed to be done. He opened the window at once.

The picture of a bell with a red bow on top looked harmless enough. Snape waited for three minutes although he was late, but nothing happened. At last, he shrugged and proceeded to his classroom. The Slytherins were already waiting and Snape noticed with pride that they all managed to look as if it was their greatest pleasure to wait for a late teacher. Yes, these children had been sorted into the right house.

"Good morning," Snape said and had to use all his willpower not to clasp his hand over his mouth.

The children looked surprised, but only for a moment. "Good morning, Professor Snape!" they chorussed dutifully.

Snape opened the door with a small spell and ushered them in. On the way to the front of the classroom he gritted his teeth. This was supposed to be a theoretical lesson. He had to speak all the time; there was no way to avoid it. With a sigh he accepted his fate and started his lecture on the proper use of oak leaves. After five minutes, he finally managed to ignore the soft ring of a bell that accompanied every single word he said.

His Slytherins had a hard time concentrating on the lecture, but they managed. Snape awarded them ten points for paying attention. The bell stopped only five minutes before he dismissed the class. Once the children were gone, Snape sat down behind his desk. He was covered in sweat.

That was it. He was not going to touch that bedazzled calendar again!


	5. 5

*5*

Snape woke early the next day due to a carefully set wand which sent off a buzzing tone twenty minutes before it normally would. He had felt he was going to need the extra time to choose a vict... person to treat to his advent calendar.

The potions master had spent most of the evening trying to remember which spells exactly he had been able to perform at the age of twelve. About some he was not sure, but about others he was and it was totally clear that he had to be very careful who he let near his advent trap. This calendar was not for the faint-hearted and certainly not for children. He needed powerful witches and wizards, who had the power, knowledge and skills to defend themselves against whatever the calendar threw at them. Snape still blushed with shame when he remembered how he had tried to hide from the blizzard instead of countering the spell. His only excuse was that he had been caught by surprise.

Anyway, his choice of people was limited. He could ask his colleagues and perhaps some friends among the deatheaters, Lucius or Rodolphus maybe, and some of the seventh years may be far enough in their training to survive opening one of the windows.

At some point between his second and third cup of tea – the extra time made breakfast so much better! – Snape decided to start simple and ask McGonagall first. She had already seen the calendar and had expressed her fondness of last year's treat. So certainly she was not going to object against doing the honours again.

Morning duties – watching students study in the library - went quite well if one did not count Ginevra Weasley hit one of her Slytherin classmates with a bat bogey hex. Granted, the boy had teased her about her family's monetary situation for nearly half an hour, but when she hexed him, he stumbled back and knocked over his potions kit which he had brought to the library to study for the exam Snape had set the class for Monday. The poor child would have a very hairy behind for at least two months. Snape assigned the Weasley girl two weeks of detention with Filch.

The whole incident was not so unwelcome though. It gave the potions master a perfect excuse to seek out the head of Gryffindor during lunch break.

"I heard." McGonagall said instead of a greeting. "What did she do to deserve two weeks? Skin one of your precious snakes alive?"

"She cast a bat bogey hex on Thaddeus Flint. He was hurt in the course of action and will be suffering for at least two months. I was very lenient in hindsight."

"Oh, come on, Severus," huffed the witch. "I heard he has fur on his bum. How much suffering will that cause?"

The potions master glared at his colleague. "I will hex some fur on you and you tell me how much you suffer."

"Touch any of my bodyparts, be it with magic or otherwise, and I will show you what suffering is!" growled the woman. She brandished her wand threateningly.

"My dear friends!" the headmaster stepped closer to the corner where McGonagall and Snape were having their little discussion. "What could it be that makes you two fight?"

"I was just asking myself the same question," Snape said smugly before the witch could answer. "Here I was coming to ask Minerva whether she wanted to open my calendar today and I found her rather unwelcoming. I have no idea how I deserved that."

McGonagall lowered her wand immediately. "Your advent calendar? Oh, I'd love to open a window!"

Snape held the calendar out invitingly and the witch opened the window. "It's beautiful!" she cried at the sight of a paunchy teapot. She looked at the calendar expectantly and, really, an instant later a steaming teapot appeared on a nearby table. The witch conjured a set of cups and invited Snape and Dumbledore to join her.

The tea was good. Nevertheless Snape was not going to let himself be tricked into opening a window ever again!


	6. 6

*6*

Finding somebody to open the window on Sunday was made a difficult task by the fact that Snape usually spent free Sundays in his dungeons. Alone, to be more exact. December, 6th, was free and Snape hesitated to seek out the company of others on the only little holiday of the month. If he went upstairs now, somebody might get the impression he liked company and would see compelled to come downstairs on Snape's next day off!

The potions master paced his living room like a caged animal all morning. He did not want to take the risk to open the window himself. He knew now that it was risky and he was not a Slytherin for nothing, for crying out loud! How difficult could it be to come up with a valid reason that would not repeat itself in any time soon to go up to the Great Hall or staff room to find somebody to open his advent calendar?

The only excuse he could come up with was a magical mishap, but that did not help a lot. Severus Snape was a powerful and skilled wizard, probably the second in power after Dumbledore within Hogwarts' walls. Which magical mishap could befall him that he would not be able to deal with on his own?

Snape spent lunch chewing on fishfingers and trying to make up a magical accident of some kind. Merlin, he had NEVER suffered a magical accident! On the other hand, he realised halfway through his double ice cream, his students suffered them all the time. He could pretend he needed help analysing some student folly.

An hour later, Snape strolled upstairs, feeling smug.

"Filius! Just the man I was looking for!" the potions master cried when he spotted the small wizard in the Entrance Hall.

"Severus, what can I do for you? I was just on my way outside to keep an eye on the students. Would you care to join me?"

Actually, Snape did not care to accompany his colleague on duty, but it could not be helped. With a curt nod he walked outside beside the Charms professor.

"I was spending the morning taking stock of ingredients, repairing minor damages in the classroom," he started the conversation. "I'm sure you have to do the same from time to time and know what I'm talking about. Longbottom, you will not be surprised to hear, melted another cauldron this week and as I was repairing the burns on the table top, it occured to me that – given the ingredients and magic we were using – there should have been more optical effects when the accident occured." He explained the scenario lengthily and Flitwick listened intently.

"You are right, Severus," the small wizard said when Snape had finished his account. "I would have thought you should have got fireworks or something like that. Is it possible that Longbottom simply is not powerful enough to cause that?"

Snape agreed readily since Longbottom never had showed any sign of extraordinary power. The boy had not even shown signs of average power in Snape's presence ever!

"You see, discussing problems with others helps!" beamed Flitwick. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

This was Snape's cue. He offered the small wizard to open a window of his advent calendar as a little thank-you for his help. Flitwick agreed readily and an instant later revealed a small golden star.

"Thank you! It's beautiful!" cried the older professor.

Snape looked up at the sky, worried. If there was really a star on its way to Flitwick, they were doomed. In spite of all his power Snape had no idea how to stop a falling star. Then he remembered that the calendar was linked to Snape himself. If he did not have the power to influence a real star now, he had not had it at the age of twelve.

Beside him, Filius Flitwick squealed with delight. There was a glittering star at the tip of his wand and when he waved it, it left a trail of sparkles.

Snape thought that Flitwick looked like a muggle fairy princess with his star-tipped wand, but at least nothing bad had happened. He took his leave as quickly as politeness allowed and returned to his dungeons where he had a hearty laugh at Flitwick's childishness.


	7. 7

*7*

If Snape was not a morning person, he was even less of a Monday person. He caught himself just in time before he slammed his buzzing wand against the wall in order to express his displeasure about being woken.

His mood was not lightened by the cup of coffee that awaited him along with his Daily Prophet and a croisant in the living room. Pinky, his personal elf, hung its ears when it came to remove the dishes and send Snape on his way to the first class.

On his way out of the quarters, Snape remembered that he needed somebody to open the window on his advent calendar and – matching his mood – he decided to let one of the students struggle with whatever the calendar threw at him.

The lucky person was no other than Harry Potter whom he found engaged in a fist fight with Draco Malfoy in front of the Potions classroom. It seemed brawling was one thing that Potter was definitely better at than the blond. Malfoy was bleeding from his nose as well as his lower lip. Potter looked like always but for the fact that his hair was maybe a little more ruffled than usual.

Behind the fighting cocks, the Granger girl looked smug. Snape assumed that the whole fight had, again, been about her being muggleborn, or like Malfoy probably had put it earlier 'being a mudblood'.

Snape's mere presence was enough to send Potter and Malfoy off in opposite directions. The potions master ignored the blond and held his advent calendar out to the Gryffindor prat. "Open the window!" he bellowed and Potter obeyed without hesitation.

"A mistletoe! How nice," piped Potter, obviously unsure about how to react to the fact that he got a treat from the head of Slytherin after beating up one of the house.

Snape smirked. The moment Potter had opened the window a twig of mistletoe had appeared above his head.

"Mistletoe!" cried Millicent Bullstrode and pulled Potter in a bear hug. She kissed the boy soundly on his lips and for a moment nothing was seen of the teenage saviour but his flailing hands.

Potter gasped for air when Bullstrode let go of him at last, but she was only replaced by Patil from Gryffindor while Granger and Parkinson started a fight about who was to go next.

Snape could have danced with joy. Finally, Mr. Popularity got what was his due. Finally, the boy wonder learned that fame was not only fun.

Things got a little out of hand when a chattering group of Slytherin sixth years passed – or rather should have passed – the potions classroom on their way to their first lesson. In a flash of presence of mind Snape opened the classroom door to give the boys a way of escape. He himself followed the small group inside and watched from the door.

The corridor was filled with girly screeching, which seemed to be some sort of signal for every female within hearing range to come and join whatever was going on. There were fights and hadn't it been for the hovering twig of mistletoe, Snape would have lost sight of Potter.

Was that a bra one of the girls had thrown?

"Do something!" Weasley demanded. Being a true Gryffindor, he was the only one who had stayed near the door.

Snape would have loved to enjoy the fun a little more, but he could hardly let one of his students be torn to shreds by a stampede of girls. With a small sigh he pointed his wand at the mistletoe and set it on fire. The moment it was hit by the spell, the girls seemed to come back to their senses. Most of the crowd left the dungeons for other classes and only the Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years stayed behind and filed into the classroom. Potter followed them, looking completely exhausted.

Yes, that was a bra dangling from his ear, Snape noted. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for inappropriate display of underwear," he snarled.

Potter huffed as he pulled the bra from his ear and hid it in his pocket.

Snape strolled to the front of the classroom in a dramatic swirl of robes. Perhaps this Monday was better than average; and just because he could, the potions master changed his lesson plan.

"Today, we are going to brew a lust potion," he announced when he finally faced the class. He smirked when a loud thud announced the fainting of one Harry Potter.


	8. 8

*8*

"There are rumours," said Albus Dumbledore between two sips of tea when Snape sat down at the head table the next morning, "that you are rewarding students for brawling."

Snape gaped at the man.

"Although I guess Mr. Potter will not agree. Did you know that I had to ask Filius to spell Poppy to look like a male? Mr. Potter's blood preasure is going up dangerously whenever a female approaches him. Even Ms. Granger and young Ginevra caused him fits when they tried to visit yesterday evening."

"I'm sorry about that," Snape mumbled under his breath, rather because it was expected than because he really was.

"Anyway," the headmaster continued, "I think you should not favour Mr. Potter, especially over Mr. Malfoy. If Tom hears, he might not take it well."

"You are right, of course," sighed Snape. At least he did not have to think about whom to ask to open the calendar today.

He sought out young Draco right after breakfast since he did not have any lessons with the seventh years on Tuesdays.

"Draco," he said, holding out the calendar offeringly, "would you care to open a window of my advent calendar?"

"I think not," sneered the blond, "not after what that thing did to Potter."

Snape smirked. "The calendar has a habit of coming up with ... not so nice spells now and then, but mostly it's harmless. I had an inkling yesterday morning that some nonsense was hidden in it for the day, that's why I let Potter open it before you." He held out the calendar again. "Come on, don't be shy."

Draco opened the window with an expression of mistrust. His face brightened when he found the picture of a white kitten in the window.

"That's cute!" he stated. "And utterly harmless." The blond looked startled when he was interrupted by a soft miaowing sound.

Snape pointed down at the floor where a white kitten was rubbing its face against Draco Malfoy's ankle. The blond stooped to pick the kitten up.

"Thank you, professor!" he cried. He turned on the spot and set out to show his new pet to his friends. The last Snape saw of the young Slytherin was Draco burrying his nose in the kitten's soft fur.

The potions master sighed. Why was it that everybody got something nice from the calendar, only he got catastrophes? Well, Potter's gift had gotten a little out of hands, but it had not been bad per se.

"No pets in Potions class, Malfoy!" he shouted after the seventh year before he retreated to the dungeons. His first class was with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third years. They better be prepared!

All the way down to his classroom, Snape kept telling himself that he was not jealous of Malfoy having gotten a kitten. Merlin, he was an adult! A spy! A deatheater! He hated kittens!


	9. 9

*9*

As it was Wednesday, Snape slept in a little on the 9th. He treated himself to a leisurely breakfast in his chambers – he even considered asking Pinky to bring the tray to his bed, but that would have been too decadent – and then went to his office early enough to prepare for his first lesson without a hurry.

When he turned around the last corner he had to stiffle a sigh. A student was waiting for him in front of the office door. Snape cursed under his breath for walking and not flooing to the office.

"Good morning, Sir," Lavender Brown said shyly.

Snape snarled a greeting in return before he ushered the girl into the office. "What makes you seek me out at this early hour, Miss Brown? And don't you have lessons to attend at this time of the day?"

The girl blushed. "I told Professor Sprout I was not feeling well."

"If you feel ill, you should have gone to the hospital wing, Miss Brown," Snape allowed himself to hope he could get rid of the girl and enjoy the rest of his morning. "I will not administer any potions to a student without Madam Pomfrey's consent. – At least not a properly brewed one." Testing student potions on the brewer was one of Snape's favourite aspects of being a Potions teacher.

"I'm not here for a potion," the Gryffindor witch crushed Snape's hope for a comfortable morning. "My problem is of a different nature."

"A problem?" asked Snape. He stood in front of his desk and towered over the girl. He was not going to offer the intruder a chair. "If you have problems, shouldn't your head of house be the one to hear about them?"

"Yes, most of the time." The girl fidgeted nervously. "But since the problem was in a way caused by you, I thought it should be you to help me solve it."

Now that was cheeky! How dare the little prat imply that Severus Snape had caused a problem? And for her of all people! As if he'd ever waste his time and effort on a giggly fool like her!

"And pray tell, Miss Brown, which problem I'm supposed to have caused?"

The girl fidgeted even more before she burst out. "You gave Potter that mistletoe and now I'm missing my best bra and I want it back and I have no idea how to ask him for it!"

Snape fought back a laugh before he remembered that there was no reason for shyness. He roared with laughter until tears were streaming down his face. "You expect me," he finally panted, "to go and ask Potter for your bra?"

"Yes." The witch stood her ground, proving that she truely belonged in Gryffindor.

Now, that was priceless. Snape could imagine Potter's face. He grinned maliciously. "It will be taken care of. Here," he held out his advent calendar to the girl. "Open a window."

"Certainly not," cried Lavender, "what if there is another mistletoe in it?"

"Firstly," sneered Snape, "be informed that in this case I'd be very well able to hold myself back." He enjoyed the fact that the girl blushed crimson. "And secondly, it is not in the nature of an advent calendar to repeat itself, stupid girl! Now, open it or you'll have to solve your problem with Potter yourself!"

The young Gryffindor took the calendar from Snape's hand and opened the window. "An angel?" she asked.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be careful not to knock anything over with your wings when you leave, Miss Brown."

The girl squealed with delight when she saw the big feathery white wings on her back. She tried to flutter and Snape had to jump to keep the papers on his desk from being blown away. "Out!" he cried. "Practice elsewhere!" He just hoped that spell was not permanent or Dumbledore would have his hide.

Later that day – he chose to wait until dinner; more people in the Great Hall – Severus Snape confronted Harry Potter and asked him to return Miss Brown's – the wings were gone by lunch – underwear. Potter blushed crimson, as did Miss Brown, McGonagall got a fit and the Slytherins all had a good laugh. Snape sent a lopsided grin to his own house. The turmoil he had caused within Gryffindor house certainly was worth enduring Lavender Brown's presence during his free period.


	10. 10

*10*

Minerva McGonagall was still glaring daggers at Snape at breakfast the next morning and things between them did not improve until lunch.

"You know, Severus," the witch growled, "I've got used to you attacking Potter at every opportunity and part of me – unlikely as it may be – understands you. I know the history of yourself and the Potter family. But what you did to Lavender Brown yesterday was low, even by your standards. It took me more than an hour today to get her to leave bed." She pointed down at the Gryffindor table where the blonde was picking at her food, obviously trying to become invisible.

"Isn't she old enough for a proper notice me not charm if she doesn't want to be seen?"

It was the wrong thing to ask because McGonagall got up and left the table after accidentally – if she had tried to climb over the table the movement had been more believable – knocking a full jug of pumpkin juice over and leaving Snape soaked in the orange liquid. It was clear, Snape had to do something to get back into her good book.

The opportunity arose only little later, when Snape had double potions with the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins. The potions master forewent his usual fun of creeping up at the Gryffindors from behind when their brewing was in a crucial state and stayed at the front of the classroom unless a student called for his help.

Everybody seemed to be happy about this new behaviour; the Gryffindors, because they were left alone, and the Slytherins, because they could ask their fill and he actually had time to answer their questions.

Draco Malfoy – Snape was tempted to take points for showing up with cat hair on his school uniform, but the boy was a Slytherin – even discussed some minor changes in the recipe with Snape. The potions master was pleased. Only few witches and wizards understood the fine art of potion making well enough to even think of daring to change a recipe. It turned out that Draco was one of those few who could change a brew to even better fit its purpose.

At the end of the lesson Snape stalked to the Gryffindor side of the classroom to look at the students' potions. He grudgingly praised Granger for her work, acknowledged that Weasley and Potter had produced potions that might not poison the drinker so fast that medical personal had no chance to arrive in time. Even Longbottom's cauldron held a liquid that had the right colour if not the right tone.

"Longbottom! Do miracles never cease?" Snape cried. "After waiting more than six years I finally witness you not only leave your cauldron intact, but brew an acceptable potion!" He rummaged in his pocket. "Here, boy, open a window. This may very well be the only time in your entire school carreer that you do well enough in here to earn a reward. We'd better not let it pass."

The Longbottom boy opened the window with trembling hands. "Oh," he cried excitedly, "this is holly!" He beamed at having got the picture of a plant. "It's a highly useful plant. You can make wands of the wood, but the leaves are highly useful for potions!" He cried out in pain when a big twig of the plant appeared in his hands.

"And it stings," Malfoy drawled from the other side of the classroom.

Longbottom tried to save his hands from more damage and before Snape could do anything the holly had landed in the boy's cauldron.

"Duck and hide!" cried Snape. He took Longbottom down when he dove under the boy's worktable. Scrambling sounds told that the class was obeying without question. Snape growled when he found himself nose to nose with Harry Potter who had chosen the same table as a hiding place. In spite of his intention to make his peace with the boy's head of house, Snape could not overcome the temptation to purse his lips as if he was going to kiss Potter. He laughed when the boy scrambled away with a little shriek.

Then it came. The holly needed only a few seconds to react with the potion they had made – Snape hoped dearly that everybody was tucked away safely under a piece of furniture – and blow it up spectacularly. There was a bang and then the sound of Longbottom's potion splattering back to the ground.

"Wands out!" cried Snape. "Banish every single drop of potion you find! Don't touch it! Banish also your own brews, we can't know whether some of Longbottom's has fallen into your cauldrons!"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Longbottom piped from behind Snape.

The potions master sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, this time it was not your fault." He scrambled out of his hiding place to help the students clean up the mess.


	11. 11

*11*

Snape had an owl the next day at lunch and in hindsight he was very glad that he had been too busy to open his advent calendar in the morning. After a short excuse to Dumbledore he swept down to the dungeons to get his deatheater robes and mask, hurried out of the door, through the gates and apparated away.

Malfoy Manor looked even more like a palace than Hogwarts in the weeks running up to Christmas. Who would have thought that Lucius Malfoy rivalled any American muggle when it came to decorating his house? The roof was covered in a thick layer of snow which looked immaculate although it had not snowed in weeks. Icicles glowing eerily from the inside hung from the roof and the window sills and fairy lights drew ornaments on the walls. Garlands of holly, huge ball ornaments and ever-burning candles completed the image.

When the potions master hurried up the path to the house, he spotted a peacock wearing a small Santa hat behind a gaudily decorated bush.

Lucius waited for him at the door. "Do come in," he whispered urgently. "He's in the ballroom. We were assembling for a muggle raid, but ever since Narcissa mentioned Draco's new pet, he's been in a bad mood. He's even cursed Bella twice!"

Secretly Snape thought there was nothing wrong with Bella being cursed, but to keep up his cover he acted scandalized.

"Merlin," he whispered back after having pretended to fight for his calm, "it's a child's toy! What does he expect?"

Lucius shook his head while he led the way down a corridor. "It's not about the present he expects, it's about you chosing the people who get the privilege to open a window."

Snape snorted. He had successfully spied on the Dark Lord for so long, was he going to lose his position or even life because of an advent calendar? What if the Dark Lord got one of the more violent spells?

The dark wizard beamed when Snape knelt and held out the calendar humbly for him to open a minute later. "My Lord," Snape said, "be careful. The blasted thing sometimes gives presents and sometimes curses!"

"I'm the most powerful wizard in centuries," the Dark Lord smiled and opened the window, "don't you think I can handle a toy? – Look how cute! It's Santa!"

Really! Santa himself was smiling out of the small window. Snape paled. A moment later, the Dark Lord was surrounded by red sparkles and another instant later he was wearing a Santa costume, beard and all.

Every deatheater present ducked in order to not be the target of their Lord's fury when he realised that he was looking like Santa for all purposes. Bella was the only one to approach him boldly.

"My Lord!" she cried. "Do you wish me to curse the potions master?"

Voldemort laughed. "Why would you? This is splendid!"

"Splendid?" the witch echoed, thus wording the question every deatheater, Snape included, was asking himself.

"Of course," cried the Dark Lord. "Come, my friends! Let's go on that raid! We will spoil Christmas for the muggles when Santa attacks them and the wizards may even think that Dumbledore assaulted them! Severus, for how long does the effect last?"

"I have no idea, my Lord," admitted the potions master. "Some spells lasted but ten minutes, others were permanent."

"In that case let's hurry, my friends. I may only have ten minutes! Severus, you return to Hogwarts, but rest assured that I will have your head should this turn out to be permanent!" He threw his new beard over his shoulder and led the way outside.

"I'll owl you," Lucius mouthed at Snape on his way out.

The potions master nodded his thanks and apparated back to Hogwarts.


	12. 12

*12*

Lucius's owl arrived at breakfast the next morning. It informed Snape that the Dark Lord had changed back after four hours, thankfully before he had got annoyed of looking like Santa, and ended with an invitation for lunch.

"I'd better go," Snape informed his superior and handed him the letter.

Dumbledore nodded after a quick look at it. "We need to know the details of what happened," he agreed.

This was why Severus Snape apparated to Malfoy Manor again less than 24 hours after his last visit. Like the day before, Lucius awaited him at the door.

"Do come in!" he cried merrily and – after throwing Snape's cloak at a shivering house elf – led the way to the dining room. "Narcissa is visiting with the Goyles." He smiled.

Lunch consisted of finger food. A great variety of delicacies was on display on a big silver tray. Lucius motioned Snape to a chair on the other side of the tray and reached for a small sandwich with roast beef. He plucked a snippet of parsley off the small dot of mayonnaise that served as decoration along with a slice of green olive.

"It's a pity you couldn't be there," the blond said after he had eaten the roast beef sandwich. He looked up from his examination of the tray long enough to smile at Snape. "It was marvellous!" He focussed back on the food and licked his fingers clean absentmindedly. The blond chose a little something with a shrimp on top next. Snape took something that looked like cucumber but turned out to be avocado; he chewed slowly to give himself a chance to identify all the spices used.

"I haven't seen him so happy ever since he returned. He was evil! Vicious! Mean! Those muggles had no idea what was coming at them! I've never seen anybody do things like that with a wand! He worked without a single word. The destruction – those little explosions he likes so much – the bursts of flame – it was like there was choreography behind it. It was elegant and seemingly effortless like a ballet! Try the salmon, Fluffy makes the best salmon on this side of the ocean."

Snape took a bit of salmon obediently. "I'm glad he enjoyed himself."

"He did!" Lucius searched the tray for another treat he might like. "And so did we! Bella was at her best, and I'm not talking about chuckling like mad and acting the nut to amuse him. She was focussed and inspired. Not that crude crutiatus and AK programme she normally uses. She used all those little curses." Lucius rolled his eyes in delight and smiled fondly. After a bite of Roquefort cheese on a smallish sandwich followed by a sip of expensive red wine he continued. "Have you ever seen a combination of Tarantallegra and Jelly Leg? Elegant, I tell you. Elegant! Yesterday I finally realised why Rodolphus fell in love with that woman."

The blond treated himself to another of the Roquefort sandwiches. "Have you tried the eggs? Simple, but delicious. Anyway, we were all glad about that advent calendar of yours. His mood was rather bad when he arrived and then he opened that window and – bang! – here he was at his best. Bella and I were talking about giving him one next year. Just imagine! 24 days of good mood!"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," replied the potions master. "There aren't always good things in it. Actually I was prepared to die when he touched the calendar." He tried one of the roast beef sandwiches and found them delicious. "Speaking of advent calendars, would you like to open today's window?" Snape asked, following inspiration.

Lucius beamed. "You offer me the same treat as our Lord? I'd gladly!"

Snape held out the calendar invitingly and the blond wizard opened the window eagerly. "A bird? I won't turn into a bird, will I?"

Snape bent forward to admire the picture of a great tit. He was distracted by a squeal of delight.

Lucius was wearing a black feather boa all of a sudden. "This is the softest I ever touched!" he cried. "Please, tell me this is not only temporary!"

"I guess not," smiled Snape. "So far the small presents were always permanent."

Lucius squealed with delight again. "I'm sorry to cut this lunch short, but I have to show this to some people!"

"I understand," smiled Snape. He suppressed a shudder and took his leave before the other wizard could go into detail what he intended to do with his new toy.


	13. 13

*13*

Severus was woken by his personal elf at an ungodly hour for Sunday. He cursed Dumbledore under his breath for assigning him morning duties at the Great Hall. Still sleepy, he showered and had a quick bite before he went up to watch the little monsters eat. His mood did not improve when he realised that Harry Potter and his fan club were already there. Why couldn't the brats sleep in and only come downstairs after another teacher had taken over from Snape?

The Head Table was, much to Snape's displeasure, still empty, which meant he had no chance to pretend to be talking to a colleague and ignore the students. He stifled a sigh – no signs of weakness in front of the brats – and poured himself a cup of tea.

"Finnegan!" he shouted after his first sip. "Put that down! Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"Sir," the Irish wizard had the cheek to cry, "I was just pouring myself more tea!"

"From a teapot hovering five meters above the table? I think not! Two points from Gryffindor for lying to my face!"

As it were Gryffindors he was dealing with, Snape was not surprised that they kept talking back. It was Potter himself next, who addressed the potions master.

"Sir, Professor Flitwick will have us sit a practical mock exam in preparation for our NEWTs on Monday. We need to practice!" He pointed his wand at Snape's cup and it sprouted arms and legs. The small dish hopped from its saucer and started a tap dance around it.

Snape snarled angrily down at the teenage hero. "Be that as it may, you will not cause mayhem at breakfast while I am in charge," he hissed dangerously. "Five points from Gryffindor for bad taste in dance." He pointed his own wand at the cup. The small piece of chinaware grew a pink skirt, the music of Swan Lake sounded from the milk jug and the cup danced on the tips of its tiny toes.

Potter got up from his seat at the Gryffindor table and approached the Head Table.

"Impressive, Sir," he remarked, "but quite boring." He pointed his wand at the cup and the music changed. The cup wore black leather now and was performing a dance with elements of playing the air-guitar.

"Potter!" thundered Snape. He pointed his wand again and the black leather turned into blue denim. The sugar bowl joined the cup and they performed a square dance. The milk jug directed them what to do.

A small crowd had assembled by then, watching Snape and Potter duel. The teenager pointed his wand again and the cup and sugar bowl danced Rock and Roll. The sugar bowl threw the cup up in a risky move and tea was spilt all over the table, most of it into the sugar.

Snape smirked. "You need to practice anticipating which auxiliary charms you will need. A small containment hex would have been easy to add. Ten points from Gryffindor for being brainless." The morning had been better than he had dared hope.

"The crystal orb told me I was needed here," he was interrupted by a hushed voice. Sybil Trelawney sat beside the potions master. Her mere presence was enough to get rid of the students within seconds. "The thirteenth is an excellent date to divine the future. May I?" she reached for Snape's cup. "The tea leaves are one of the simpler forms of divination, but very reliable." She turned the cup this way and that.

"Would you like to open my advent calendar?" Snape interrupted the woman before she could make some harebrained prediction. He held the calendar out invitingly.

"It looks different than last year," Trelawney pointed out. She smiled. "The tea leaves say that you are going to share something today."

Snape tried to smile back, but failed. Nervous, he watched the seer open her window. What if the calendar caused a catastrophe with dozens of students around? He was startled out of his fears by a squeal of delight. An ornate carafe of sherry had materialised in front of the witch. Snape leaned closer to see the picture. It was a bottle.

"Can you pour tea, Severus?" Trelawney asked.

Snape complied and the seer added a dash of sherry to each cup.

"Say, Severus, how long do you have to stay here? We could enjoy this treat in a more private setting once you are finished here."

"Another twenty minutes." Snape smiled. He just hoped that his replacement was going to arrive on time.


	14. 14

*14*

Snape was – for the first time since he started teaching – late for his first class on Monday. To be more exact, he opened the door to his classroom fifteen seconds after the official start of the lesson after he had jogged up the corridor from his quarters. He was in desperate need of a cup of coffee after sharing not only one carafe of sherry with Sybil the day before.

"In!" he bellowed at the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years. "What are you waiting for? Granger! Brew me a cup of coffee!" As much as Snape hated to admit it, the girl was probably the only person in this group of students who was capable of brewing coffee and finishing her assignment in time in spite of the extra task.

"I'm not your secretary!" the girl snarled angrily. She added "Sir," in a smaller voice when Snape glared at her.

"I'm not in the mood to discuss women's rights, Granger. Caffeine! Now!"

This finally made the girl move. She hurried to the front of the classroom, where Snape kept a cauldron just big enough to brew one cuppa. Unfortunately she returned barely a minute later. "You are out of coffee," she shook the coffee tin accusingly.

"And why are you wasting my time telling me that? Run to the kitchens and get some!"

"Only if you start my assignment for me," the girl stood her ground.

Snape waved her off and she left at a run. With a sigh the potions master sat beside Potter – he completely ignored the boy – and started to slice cabbage, which was needed for the base of the stomach ache cure they were brewing.

The ten minutes until Granger returned and finally put a cup of coffee in front of Snape were the longest in Snape's life, which was saying something seeing that he had spent a lot of time in the presence of the Dark Lord.

Luckily the students were scared enough of the potions master that he made it through the morning without too much trouble. At lunch, help came from an unexpected corner.

"Hangover?" smiled Sprout. She handed Snape a small brownish root. The potions master chewed it without hesitation and finally felt human again.

"Thank you so much, Pomona," he sighed happily and held out his advent calendar invitingly. Sprout definitely deserved a reward.

"Oh, I've heard of your calendar!" cried the Herbology teacher. "I'm honoured!" She opened the window and clapped her hands. "Beautiful!"

It was an icicle and seconds later, the Great Hall was decorated with glittering icicles all over. The students ooh-ed and aaah-ed, Dumbledore was beside himself.

The first trace of panic stirred in Snape when a drop of water landed on his nose. "It's melting!" he shouted. "Out! Out!"

The students were quicker to react than most of the teachers. Nevertheless barely half of them had left the hall by the time the first icicle fell from the ceiling. It hit a second year Ravenclaw on the shoulder. The boy screamed with pain.

Some of the Slytherins dove under their house table. More icicles came down and more students were hurt. Luckily Dumbledore had the presence of mind to cast a shield spell and McGonagall banished the remaining icicles.

"Well," sighed Sprout beside the potions master, "that was a short pleasure, but nevertheless beautiful. Thank you, Severus."

The potions master smiled weakly and hurried off under the pretence of having to prepare his next lesson.


	15. 15

*15*

Snape was tense the next day. The headmaster had forbidden that Snape take his advent calendar to the Great Hall again after the fiasco of the day before. The potions master snarled and sneered at everybody who got near him all morning. The ban made it so much more difficult to find somebody to open the next window; and when had the calendar produced two catastrophes in a row ever?

To make matters worse, Snape was on duty in the Great Hall at breakfast and had to proctor the fresh air fanatics among the students at lunchtime. It was icy cold outside, nevertheless more than a dozen of students, mostly first years, were playing in the snow on the lawn. Snape cast a warming spell on his fingers and strolled down towards the lake where a couple of students were feeding the squid.

After some well placed comments from the potions master, the first years made their way back into the castle in a hurry. Snape smirked and followed them back to the warmth. This did, however, not change the fact that he was not able to go and find somebody to open his advent calendar.

Things did not improve in the afternoon. During his last lesson there was even an explosion because the brew of one of his second year Ravenclaws had been contaminated with something Snape could not identify. It was a disaster. The boy was in tears. Ravenclaws never messed up a potion! Snape was close to panic, because he could not tell what had gone wrong, which had not happened once ever since he had started teaching.

The whole fiasco was interrupted by a timid knock on the door. Pansy Parkinson entered the classroom with an air of shyness she usually did not possess.

"Miss Parkinson," snarled Snape, irritated. "Why do you interrupt my lesson?"

"I'm very sorry, Sir, but Draco – Mr. Malfoy – misses Snowflake. We've looked everywhere and this is the only room left. Potions are highly sensitive, so I thought I'd check rather sooner than later."

"Snowflake?" Snape echoed.

"The cat you gave him," Pansy Parkinson explained. "It won't take more than a minute. Here, kitty, kitty!" Her call was answered by a miaow and the girl picked up the cat from under a worktable. "Here you are! Bad girl!"

Snape sighed. This explained the explosion at least. "Tell Mr. Malfoy that I expect him to tidy up the mess his thoughtlessness caused in my classroom as soon as this lesson is finished."

It took Draco Malfoy more than two hours to clean the classroom, mostly due to the fact that Snape didn't allow the use of magic. Once it was done, Snape went to Slytherin house to reward Pansy Parkinson for finding the cat in his classroom.

The girl blushed with pride when her head of house held out the advent calendar to her. "A teddy bear!" she cried happily at the sight of the picture. She looked around searchingly. "Shouldn't I get one now?"

Snape nodded. The moment he had seen the picture, he had expected a teddy bear to materialise somewhere near the girl, but nothing happened. A feeling of doom rose in Snape's guts.

"Up to the Great Hall, all of you!" he ordered.

It was too late. A loud roar announced that the teddy bear had come to life and bigger than Pansy Parkinson or Snape had anticipated. And worst of all, the beast – taller than Snape by two heads and a mouth full of teeth as long as Snape's fingers – blocked the exit. The students screamed. Draco Malfoy rushed to pick up his cat.

"Behind me!" cried Snape. He drew his wand. "Somebody get help if you get a chance to escape! The seventh years guard the younger ones!"

Obediently the seventh years drew their wands and formed a phalanx beside Snape. The potions master realised with pride that the sixth years formed a second shield behind the older students without being told to.

Snape didn't dare fire a hex at the beast. If he didn't manage to get rid of it at first try, he might be facing a wounded monster in the presence of children. "Pinky!" the potions master roared.

The elf appeared at once. "Master Snape?" It bowed.

"Fetch the headmaster!" ordered Snape.

"Yes, Sir, Master," the elf bowed again.

It took Dumbledore less than a minute to arrive in the dungeons. He banished the roaring bear while Snape continued to shield his students. The potions master wished it were already Christmas like never before in his life.


	16. 16

*16*

After a nearly sleepless night – Snape tossed and turned most of the time – Snape was not surprised when the headmaster sent word for him to come to the headmaster's office before breakfast and bring his calendar. On the way upstairs, the potions master tried to decide how he felt about losing his little advent fun. On one hand it was only a child's game, on the other hand he had grown quite fond of it.

When he opened the door, Snape stopped short. He had not counted on the minister of magic himself to show up.

"Ah, Severus, do come in, do come in!" Dumbledore greeted his potions instructor in his usual cheerful manner. "Sit down and have some breakfast with us!"

"Dumbledore," Cornelius Fudge said sourly, "this is not the time for croissants and apple pie. I'm here to investigate the endangerment of students!"

The headmaster beamed at the minister. "Apple pie for breakfast? What a splendid idea!" He called a house elf and minutes later started to hand out small plates with slices of apple pie. Fudge huffed when he got his but calmed down after the first forkful.

"The minister insists," the old wizard informed Snape, "that he is allowed to learn about your calendar. You did bring it, didn't you?" Snape nodded curtly. "I suggest," Dumbledore beamed, "you let him open today's window. That way he can see himself how harmless it is."

"Harmless?" Fudge snarled. "I think not!" He took a big gulp of tea.

"Minister," Dumbledore looked at the man over the rim of his glasses. "Do you really think that Severus would ever endanger one of the students? True, sometimes the calendar displays a rather crude sense of humour, but the windows were always opened in Severus's presence and whenever the calendar dealt out something a student couldn't handle, Severus helped immediately."

Fudge made a noncommittal noise. Snape looked down at his teacup doubtfully. There was, he decided, a good chance that the headmaster had spiked the beverage with calming draught. The potions master put the cup down without taking a sip.

"Why don't you try it yourself?" the headmaster continued, oblivious of his potions teacher's musings. He looked at Snape pointedly.

It took Snape only a short moment to catch on. "Of course!" he then hurried to cry and hold out his advent calendar.

"I will not touch this trap!" cried Fudge.

Dumbledore giggled. "Trap? Cornelius, you are being overly dramatic. I linked the calendar to Severus's magic at the age of twelve. You are a fully trained wizard. Certainly you are not seriously concerned about the dangers that could cause."

Fudge glared at Dumbledore. "Give it here!" he snarled and pulled the calendar over rather violently and opened the window labelled 16. "Oh, how cute!" The picture was a nut cracker.

Snape and Dumbledore waited with baited breath for a nut cracker to appear, but instead the minister grew ears, rodent incisors, fur and a bushy tail. The minister snickered.

"A squirrel?" asked Snape.

"I just hope this is not permanent." Dumbledore looked taken aback.

Snape snorted. "I don't think anybody would notice the difference." He rummaged in his pocket and offered a nut to the giant squirrel. The rodent made a happy nose and started opening the offered nut. "All we can do is wait, I guess."

Dumbledore agreed. He ordered more cake and tea and a medium sack of nuts.

They watched Fudge open walnuts, peanuts, almonds and even some acorns.

"Is he always that greedy?" asked the potions master as he ordered more nuts from the kitchens.

The headmaster shrugged. "I had no idea." He held out a pistachio and squirrel-Fudge squealed with delight. He wrapped his tail around the old wizard's hand.

It took the minister more than two hours to turn back into a man. Dumbledore smiled at him benignly. "So, Cornelius, are you convinced that the calendar is entirely harmless?"

The minister brushed crumbs of nut from his robes. "You're right Albus! It's a harmless piece of fun. I didn't enjoy myself that much in years." He laughed.

Snape let out the breath he only realised now he had been holding. "If that's all, headmaster," he hinted a bow, "I have lessons to teach."

Dumbledore made a dismissing gesture. The last thing Snape heard before he closed the door was the old man's offer of nut cake to the minister of magic.


	17. 17

*17*

Although the minister of magic himself had declared the advent calendar harmless, Snape felt he had to be very careful whom to choose to open the next windows. He even considered doing it himself, but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit he was too stubborn to turn tail. All he needed to do was find witches and wizards powerful enough to deal with whatever the calendar threw at them. How difficult could that be in a school full of teachers and a big group of seventh years who were training to face the Dark Lord one day?

He decided with a smirk that Potter's friends had to be skilled enough to deal with the calendar.

"Miss Granger!" he accosted the girl at breakfast. "I did some thinking yesterday evening and came to the conclusion that you as my most hard-working student should be treated to opening a window of my advent calendar." He held the item in question out to the girl.

Granger reached for the calendar, her expression saying clearly that she was looking right through Snape's excuse. "I'm honoured." Did that girl dare smirk at him?

Granger opened the window and smiled. Snape craned his neck. How very fitting! The girl had revealed an image of a tiny book. Surprisingly enough, no book or other item remotely similar to a book appeared on the Gryffindor table.

"A book! Cute!" cried the girl. "Dear, endlessly favoured gift! Have I joyfully..."

"Granger!" Snape interrupted the girl. "Stop babbling!"

"Alas, babbling can't do ever!" Granger nodded.

Potter and Weasley were clearly mixed up. "What are you talking about?" asked Potter.

"About books, clearly!"

Snape gritted his teeth. "Miss Granger, you are excused from lessons until the spell wears off."

"A barefaced concept, darling!" hissed the Gryffindor.

Potter, Weasley and their little friends ducked in anticipation of Snape's explosion. Normally, the potions master would have killed any student cheeky enough to address him like that on the spot, but he was painfully aware that the girl could not help herself.

"Potter, you will inform the other teachers. We don't want Miss Granger to get into trouble for this."

The teenage hero blushed. "Of what exactly do I inform them, Sir?"

"A blatant chump!" Granger cried accusingly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I suggest you figure it out yourselves." He smirked when he walked up to the Head Table. The spell might cause inconvenience, but it was harmless enough. He pondered whether he could risk telling his colleagues and take bets how long it was going to Potter and Weasley to figure out the spell or whether the other teachers would go and spoil his fun.

No, he decided, better watch from a distance and enjoy.


	18. 18

*18*

Hermione Granger not being able to control her speech had been the top topic of gossip in the staff room the previous evening. Snape had had a few good laughs – the spell had lasted until lessons were over and Granger would have a hard time looking some of her teachers in the eye for quite a while – and so he went back to the staff room right after breakfast the next day to see whether there were new stories. He knew that the girl had had Runes yesterday, but there hadn't been any stories about that because Endora had been on duty all evening.

The potions master was a bit surprised when he entered the room and found no other than Dumbledore's latest folly there. Firenze, the centaur supposed to teach Divination (as if the school needed two teachers for THAT), was talking to Minerva. Snape joined them to find out what the half-horse wanted. The way up the stairs must be very uncomfortable for somebody on four hooves, so there certainly was an important reason for Firenze's presence.

"I tell you," was the centaur saying when Snape stepped closer, "Mars was particularly bright last night. We must be careful."

Snape could hardly refrain from rolling his eyes. Instead, he decided to change topic. "Firenze," he said, "there was not much opportunity for conversation so far for the two of us, but I'd like to extend my hand in friendship by offering you to open a window of my advent calendar." The somewhat unnatural form of speech required when dealing with centaurs didn't come easy to Snape, but he was quite satisfied with himself.

He must have got it right, because Firenze bowed. "I'm honoured by the offer, but we have to take Mars into account."

"It's a child's game," said the potions master. "What danger can lie in it?"

"You can never know," said the centaur but reached for the proffered calendar and opened the next window. He roared with rage at what he saw and dropped the piece of cardboard to reach for his bow. "Never have I been insulted in such a manner!" the enraged centaur roared.

Snape accioed his calendar and paled. Window number 18 contained a picture of a rocking horse. To make matters worse, the centaur was suddenly surrounded by sparks and a tingling sound and when it was over, the half-horse's hooves were connected to a pair of vats.

Firenze made an angry move at Snape but all he accomplished was send himself rocking like mad and nearly lose balance.

"I'm sorry!" screeched Snape. "I had no idea what was in the window!"

"I'll show you sorry!" cried the centaur. He reached for an arrow and aimed at Snape. The potions master ran from the room as fast as his feet would carry him. When he shut the door, he heard the tell-tale sound of an arrow hitting the wood on the other side.

To make matters worse, he heard the sound of hooves nearly immediately after the arrow had missed its target by board-width. Trust his luck that this spell lasted only long enough to enrage the centaur but not give him, Snape, enough time to run to safety.

With a yelp he'd in hindsight never admit he had uttered Snape turned and ran. Arrows shot past him on the left and right. The offended centaur roared behind him. Snape started to zigzag to make aiming more difficult. He congratulated himself for taking the stairs to gain an advantage in speed.

"Run if you want to, but know that I will not tire to hunt you down!" screamed the centaur.

"Somebody get Dumbledore!" roared Snape at some dumbfounded students in passing. "Quickly!" He was a potioneer, a scientist, a man of mind, not a bloody jogger! He turned around a corner just in time to be missed by another arrow.


	19. 19

*19*

"Good morning, Severus!"

Poppy Pomfrey greeted the potions master merrily the next morning. The man in question tried to hide under his pillow. Never before had he spent a humiliating night like that!

"I informed Albus that you will be able to resume your teaching after lunch." The woman pulled down Snape's blanket unceremoniously. "Help me with those pants."

Snape growled at the woman from under his pillow.

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue. "Either you cooperate and pull them down far enough for me or I'll banish them. Your choice."

"You devil!" snarled Snape. He lifted his hips a bit and wiggled his pants down far enough to expose the wound on his left buttock to the nurse's eyes.

The woman chuckled. "I'll only apply the best healing potions available."

Snape snorted.

"If you find this awkward you should be more careful which body parts you turn towards an enraged, armed centaur. By the way, do you want to keep the arrow? I cleaned it for you and it would make a nice trophy on your mantelpiece."

"And explain how I acquired it? I think not! – Ouch! Be more careful, woman!"

"Stop being a baby, Severus. This can't have hurt at all."

"Can't it? Why don't you try it yourself?"

The nurse laughed. "I'm not frivolous enough to turn a centaur into a rocking horse." She slapped Snape's intact buttock playfully. "You may dress, but stay on your stomach for another hour or so."

Snape went to Pomfrey's office once the hour had passed. "Thank you for keeping this quiet," he said awkwardly. "Would you like to open today's window?" He held out his calendar.

"Is that the offending item?" laughed Pomfrey. "It won't turn me into a rocking horse, will it?"

Snape shook his head. "So far, no two spells were the same."

"Then give it here." Pomfrey searched for the window with the right number and opened it. "Nice!" She showed Snape the small image of a glass ornament.

"It is," agreed the potions master. He reached for his wand when colourful sparkles filled the hospital wing, but he didn't need it. Shiny glass ornaments, garlands of tinsel and small golden bells had appeared over every window of the hospital wing.

"Thank you, Severus! It's beautiful!" cried the witch. "Beautiful!"

"You're welcome," smiled the potions master. Not having to run was a nice change.


	20. 20

*20*

Sunday dawned icy cold, but sunny. Snape was not looking forward to that day as it meant a whole day of hall duties. It was just what he needed. A castle full of overexcited teenagers bustling to and fro and he in charge of maintaining order. Oh joy!

Therefore it came as a nearly pleasant surprise when his dark mark burned while most of the students were still at breakfast (Snape had taken a total of 125 points from three of Hogwarts' houses by that time). The potions master notified the headmaster and then hurried down to the gates.

He apparated to Malfoy Manor and walked up to the house through the vast park. If the estate had been decorated gaudily when the potions master had last been there, it was now even more pompous. Where Snape knew to be fountains stood ice statues which were illuminated from inside in different colours. The peacocks wore not only Santa hats but their plumage had been hexed red and gold. (Snape wondered whether Lucius had realised that his peacocks wore Gryffindor colours.) The trees were covered in garlands and fairy lights and a soft melody tingled over the whole estate.

"My dear friends," cried the Dark Lord once everybody was seated at the big table in Lucius's dining room. "I decided this is a splendid day for a little Christmas party!" He waved his wand and funny Christmassy hats appeared on the deatheaters' heads. Lucius had got a green elf's hat, Rodolphus had a Santa hat and Bellatrix sported a tiara in Christmassy colours.

Food appeared on the table and everybody tucked in. The food was good and Snape hadn't had any breakfast yet and therefore was glad to get a bite.

After the meal there was a small dance. The Dark Lord waltzed with Narcissa and Bellatrix in turn. When their husbands complained – cautiously and politely of course – he spelled Wormtail and McNair into dresses and suggested Lucius and Rodolphus dance with them.

Snape and Rabastan tiptoed out of the room under the pretence of wanting to discuss the Dark Lord's Christmas present before they were put into dresses, too.

"Ever since you let him open that calendar he's in a too good mood," laughed Rabastan as they strode out into the park.

Snape joined the laughter. "Would you like to open a window, too?"

Rabastan beamed. "Would you let me? Actually I'd like to pass the privilege to Bella. She's been speaking about the calendar for weeks. If it's alright with you, I'd like to let her open it."

Snape was not very happy with the idea, but saying anything against the Dark Lord's most faithful servant would not have been very wise. "Why not?" he smiled.

Bellatrix was beside herself. She opened the window eagerly. "A fish?" she asked.

Snape nearly was not fast enough stepping back. A big pool appeared right under Bellatrix's feet and she fell into the water with a loud splash. The Dark Lord roared with laughter as did everybody else but Rodolphus and Bella herself.

"How dare you laugh at my wife!" roared the enraged husband at his brother. He fired a spell at Rabastan immediately. Two minutes later – the Dark Lord had signalled the rest to step back and give them room – the brothers were engaged in a fierce duel.


	21. 21

*21*

Again Snape found himself in Dumbledore's office because of his advent calendar. This time it was Kingsley Shacklebolt who had come to hear about what had happened.

"We received intelligence that there was a serious difference of opinion among the deatheaters," said the auror. "Do you know anything about it?"

Snape sighed and then reported how Bellatrix had opened the calendar and taken an impromptu bath.

"He enjoyed the fight a lot," said the potions master. "He had us step back and watch the Lestrange brothers duel."

"Who won?"

"Neither. Once Bellatrix had recovered, she joined the fight and she won easily. Rodolphus had half of his skin burned and the Dark Lord forbade me to help. Rabastan was hit by a fever spell and without a potion it will take him at least a month to recover."

"Why would He make his followers useless for so long?" Shacklebolt asked.

Snape smirked. "He likes to watch people suffer and since he seemingly doesn't think he'll need them in the near future, he this time watches the Lestranges suffer."

The auror looked doubtful. "And you mean to tell me that you took down two deatheaters using an advent calendar?"

Snape shrugged. "That's what happened."

"Severus's calendar is quite a handful," Dumbledore chimed in. "Sometimes the spells are harmless, but several people got hurt."

"In this case it's dangerous magical item," the auror said sternly. "And from what I heard, I think the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Division should be informed."

"Nonsense, no muggle came near it since it has been hexed." Dumbledore hurried to point out. "The minister of magic himself investigated and declared it harmless."

Snape recognized a chance when it presented itself. "Would you like to open today's window?" he asked. Certainly an experienced auror was not going to have problems with the calendar.

"Why not?" Shacklebolt reached for the proffered calendar and opened the window. "An apple."

A big apple pie materialized on Dumbledore's desk. "Kingsley!" cried the old wizard. "May I offer you a cup of tea to go with this pie?"

The auror snorted. "Yes, please. I don't believe one word, Snape! This is a toy! Nobody can win over two deatheaters using it. One day I will find out the truth!"

"There's nothing to find out, Kingsley," the headmaster said reassuringly while he poured tea for three. The auror cut the cake, snorting in response to Dumbledore's statement.

The pie was good. Slowly but surely, Snape got annoyed by the fact that others got the good things from the traitorous calendar while he was subject to the catastrophes.


	22. 22

*22*

After Madam Pomfrey's decorations – wouldn't his dungeons have looked good with a little Christmas glitter, too? – and Shacklebolt's pie – it had been delicious and Snape could have made it a tea time treat for a whole week! – the potions master decided that he had to try again. This was his calendar, for crying out loud! It was time he got a treat from it! Therefore Snape opened the next window right after getting up.

The picture was a small heart.

No present appeared and no decorations went up.

Disappointed and furious, Snape left his quarters to have breakfast at the Great Hall. Since he was on duty, he could as well eat up there.

The potions master was the first one to enter the Great Hall, a thing about which he was glad, because it gave him some bites in peace before the little pests arrived. He ordered coffee, toast and fresh fruit.

Snape was halfway through his second slice of toast when the first students, namely Potter and his fan club, arrived. The boys had the decency to sit down at the Gryffindor table and pretend he wasn't there, but Granger rushed up to the head table.

"Professor!" she squealed. "I have been hoping you would be here! It's an honour to breakfast in the same room as you; and may I point out that you look dashing today?"

Snape looked down his worn teaching robes and then back at the girl who was staring at him with admiration. "Sit down and eat, Granger!" he hissed dangerously.

"Anything that makes you happy, Sir!" chimed the girl and joined the boys.

Draco Malfoy and his retinue were next. Trust fate to make the two worst trouble makers both early birds. This time, Parkinson and Bullstrode ran up to the head table.

"Good morning, Sir!" they chorused. "It's so good to see you!" – "You are the best-looking head of house at Hogwarts!" added Parkinson.

"I wanted to say that!" cried Bullstrode.

"Why would I wait for you to state the obvious?" asked Parkinson.

Bullstrode nodded. "You're right. It can't be said frequently enough. I've never seen somebody hold their cup with so much grace!"

"Sit down and eat!" growled Snape. By now he had an inkling what the heart in the calendar meant. He had to leave the Great Hall before the majority of the female students arrived!

It seemed that he was lucky for once. Minerva McGonagall made her appearance, looking still sleepy after corridor duties in the evening.

"Minerva!" Snape whispered urgently. "Can you take over here? I have to leave! It's an emergency!"

"And miss seeing you eat that banana? I think not." The witch sat beside him, watching him closely. "Come on, Severus. Show me!"

"What?" squeaked Snape in a high-pitched voice. "I will leave and you will take over!" He certainly was not going to put on a show for his ex-teacher! He got up, trying to escape, but it was too late. A flock of Hufflepuff girls entered the hall at that moment and there was no escape.

Luckily, none of the females tried to kiss him. All they did was paying him compliments and moon over him, but it was still very annoying. The spell wore off only after Snape's third lesson. The potions master was exhausted.

He hated that advent calendar!


	23. 23

*23*

The 23rd was, thanks Merlin, a Wednesday and Snape was able to sleep in a bit and ponder who to chose for the calendar that day. He was not going to open the window himself, that much was clear; not after yesterday's disaster. He was lucky that the picture hadn't been a wedding ring!

He called for Pinky and had her serve breakfast in bed, a treat he rarely indulged in, but certainly deserved after the day he'd had yesterday. The elf brought a tray almost immediately after Snape had uttered his wish.

"Exchange that for some grapes!" snarled the potions master, pointing at the banana on the tray. He was not sure he'd ever feel up to eating a banana again after having been cornered by McGonagall on the way to his potions classroom and practically have one forced down his throat. The woman had oohed and aahed while he ate and he had never felt so humiliated in his life, especially when every female Slytherin above second year had joined her to watch and cheer him on.

The elf did as told and Snape had fresh wafers with clotted cream and fruit for breakfast. Since he was already indulging himself, he added some warm chocolate sauce.

It was during preparing his third wafer – asking for chopped almonds had been a strike of genius – that inspiration struck. Hagrid! The half giant might not be magically refined, but he was in himself a powerful magical being and therefore most likely not a helpless victim if the calendar got nasty. And, most important, Hagrid was easy to impress and talking him into opening the window should be a piece of cake.

Snape finished his sinful breakfast, dressed and left the castle whistling merrily (after making sure nobody saw or heard him). Memory had served him well. Hagrid was not teaching on Wednesdays, but going about his gamekeeper duties.

He found him behind his hut, sorting out a small flock of knee-high animals with reddish brown fur and sharp teeth.

"Stay back, Professor," cried the half giant. "They bite! I'll be with you in a minute." Snape watched Hagrid coax the little beasts into a small pen. "They're for my fifth years," the man explained when he had succeeded to close the gate. "Biting little buggers, but very useful and highly magical."

"What are they good for?" Snape asked politely although he couldn't have cared less.

"They love to play with bowtruckles. Good for finding wand trees, they are, and they make very faithful pets. Once you have tamed one, it will defend you with its life. I'm surprised you don't know them."

Snape huffed. "Actually," he changed topic, "I've come to ask you whether you'd like to open a window of my advent calendar." He held the item out.

"I'd be honoured!" cried Hagrid. "Dumbledore showed me the socks he got and ever since I've been hoping you were going to ask me!" He opened the window and shuddered. "A rabbit!"

"A bunny," Snape agreed. The bunny in question was white and wore a red bow. He shook the calendar. "Is this an Easter calendar or what?" He growled.

His anger was interrupted by a scared outcry from the gameskeeper. "Aaaargh! Take it away!" A pale pink ball of fur the size of a tennis ball had appeared on the man's shoulder. "What is this?"

"I'd say it's a pygmy puff, Hagrid," offered Snape. "They are said to purr if you stroke them."

"Why would I stroke a monster?" the half giant cried fearfully. "Remove it this instant or I'll tell Dumbledore!"

"Okay, okay," said Snape. "Can you stoop a bit so that I can reach it?" The half giant did as he was told and Snape picked the pygmy puff from his shoulder. "I take it you don't want to keep it?"

"Certainly not!" cried Hagrid. "I'd never have taken you for so mean to attack me at my home, Professor!" He opened the gate and the brownish beasts went for Snape immediately. The potions master ran for his life. He most likely wouldn't have escaped despite his best effort if it hadn't been for McGonagall who appeared on the stairs to the entrance and cast a shield spell to hold the beasts back.

"Severus," she said when he reached her, panting, "what have you done now? Oh! A pygmy puff! How sweet!"

"Would you like it?" Snape held out the pink monstrosity.

"Why yes, Severus! May I offer you a snack in exchange? You must be hungry after so much exertion. I have a bunch of fresh bananas in my office." She wiggled her brows suggestively.

Snape growled, threw the pygmy puff at the witch, wrapped his cloak and dignity around his frame and stomped off to his dungeons.


	24. 24

*24*

The 24th found Severus Snape determined to open his advent calendar himself. That would have been all he needed, another tirade from Dumbledore about "attacking his fellow teachers with dubious creatures". (Snape's plea that he had been attacked with a whole pack of snappy creatures had been ignored.)

He postponed opening the window again and again, expectant – and a bit fearful – of another catastrophe. That was why he only, finally, opened it before he went to bed. He was already in his nightwear – he had opted for one of his newer nightshirts in honour of Christmas Eve – and ready for bed, teeth brushed, hair bound with a small black bow (that made brushing it in the morning so much easier) and all.

The picture was a Christmas tree.

Snape looked around, wand in hand. His bedroom was too small for a Christmas tree! He should have gone to the living room.

No tree appeared in the bedroom.

Cautiously, Snape peeked out of the bedroom into the living room.

No tree had appeared in the living room.

Then he felt it. A mighty spell similar to Imperius – forcing him to do something but leaving him aware of what he was doing – drove him to the door and out into the corridor. Snape had the presence of mind to summon his bathrobe – a present from a certain witch; pink embroidery on the lapels – and throw it over his nightshirt. He was glad that he still had on his slippers.

His feet made their way to the Great Hall as if they had a will of their own. Embarrassed, Snape realised that he was not the only one there and that the hall had changed since dinner.

The house tables were gone. In the middle of the hall stood a huge Christmas tree and around it every living soul that had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays had gathered. They all were already in nightwear.

Potter wore the oldest pyjamas Snape had ever seen. (If anybody mocked his nightshirt he could point them at the boy.) Draco Malfoy wore powdery blue silk with white fur slippers. Granger wore a lacy monstrosity covered in small yellow flowers and, surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson wore the same thing. Snape made a mental note to talk to the girl about dress sense.

Flitwick looked flushed in his bathrobe. "I was just on my way out of the shower when the spell hit me," he confessed when Snape asked. "Thanks Merlin, I had the presence of mind to transfigure my towel before I reached the door!"

McGonagall sported a tartan night dress and Dumbledore wore gaudy red pyjamas with white fur applications. He looked like Santa.

"I was just going to get some work done before bed when I felt I had to be here!" he cried merrily as he approached his potions instructor. ("Deliver some presents?" muttered Snape.) "What a splendid idea to have a pyjama party, Severus!" The headmaster waved his wand and a long table appeared along one of the walls, covered with plates of biscuits, cakes and bowls of eggnog and punch.

The old man pointed his wand at his throat before he spoke again. "My dear children, colleagues and friends! Let's all thank Severus for this party and then have a nice evening!" He waved his wand again and glasses of Christmassy drinks appeared in everybody's hands. Snape nearly dropped his eggnog.

"To Severus!" cried the headmaster. "A Merry Christmas to him!"

"To Severus!" everybody echoed and they drank.

Snape blushed and hid behind his eggnog.

The later the evening grew, the merrier it got. The party was peaceful and Snape enjoyed himself a lot. At midnight, small parcels appeared under the Christmas tree for everybody. Snape got a new stirring rod, Potter a quill, Granger hid her present with a blush (Snape was quite sure he had seen lace) and Weasley got a deck of exploding snap cards. Draco Malfoy got a strange little brush and was halfway through brushing his hair when somebody pointed out that it was a cat curry comb.

When Snape finally retired to bed, it was with a happy smile on his face. Maybe, just maybe, the calendar hadn't been so bad. And maybe he was going to get himself another one next year.


End file.
